Discover poetry

Underneath the abject willow,
Lover, sulk no more;
Act from though should quickly follow:
What is thinking for?
Your unique and moping station
Proves you cold;
Stand up and fold your map of desolation.


Bells that toll across the meadows
From the sombre spire,
Toll for those unloving shadows
Love does not require.
All that lives may love; why longer
Bow to loss
With warm arms across?
Strike and you shall conquer.


Geese in flocks above you flying
Their direction know:
Brooks beneath the thin ice flowing
To their oceans go;
Coldest love will warm to action,
Walk then, come,
No longer numb, Into your satisfaction.


March 1936.

Discover Auden.